


of hijackings and heroes

by fanfictiongreenirises



Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [25]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Blood and Injury, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson is Robin, Dick Grayson-centric, Don't copy to another site, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28237725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/pseuds/fanfictiongreenirises
Summary: Things don't go to plan when Dick 'borrows' the Batmobile to patrol alone.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622032
Comments: 16
Kudos: 106





	of hijackings and heroes

**Author's Note:**

> For the "Stealing the Batmobile" square on my Batman Bingo card. MY LAST BATMAN BINGO FIC!!!! I NOW HAVE A BLACKOUT!!!!
> 
> Shoutout to the batfam server for their help in brainstorming ideas for this fic (this would've probably never become a complete fic if it hadn't been for you guys <3), and shoutout to everyone who sent me a prompt for the square way back in like July or something before I decided to go and write a chapter fic for one of the squares and completely derailed everything 😂 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own DC ^~^

This fanfiction is hosted on **Archive of Our Own,** where you can read it for **free**. If you’re reading this on a different website, it was posted there without the author’s consent.

Dick knew it was childish of him, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been psyching himself up for _days_ now to ask Bruce whether he could go on the school camp – he’d outlined his pitch, he’d mentally packed his bags, and he’d even tentatively told a few people he’d be coming.

And in a single sentence, Bruce had shot him down.

He didn’t understand. He was _Robin!_ If Bruce could trust him to fight crime and watch Batman’s back, then why couldn’t he let Dick go on a measly camp? His pitch – had Bruce listened to it in its entirety – involved telling Bruce how he’d stayed overnight at Titan’s Tower, and that this would be no different. It was only two nights, after all.

Dick sank lower in the seat, knowing he should be getting back soon. He’d driven the Batmobile a few times before, and usually only when Bruce was either incapacitated or he’d been left in the car alone. He knew that the fact that he and the car were missing had no doubt been picked up by Bruce and Alfred by now, but the fact that they hadn’t even called the car was… well, Dick didn’t know quite what to make of that.

Had Bruce decided to give him time to cool off? Or maybe Dick had crossed a line when he’d ‘borrowed’ the Batmobile and started patrol off alone. It wasn’t even supposed to be a patrol night for them – it was their fortnightly break, and Alfred had left to head into town to visit friends while Bruce had apparently planned some sort of surprise for the two of them.

Now, after two hours of patrolling the streets of Gotham alone and having stopped minimal crime, Dick was starting to move from anger to something that felt an awful lot like _guilt_.

He’d do another round, he decided. He’d drive around the city using their usual route, like they normally did, and then he’d head back to the Cave to face whatever music Bruce had waiting for him. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d well and truly blown his chances of being given permission to go on the trip – hell, he’d probably be grounded for weeks and not allowed to go on patrol for just as long.

Dick didn’t expect to see any criminal activity. This time of night, just before the earliest of morning shifts began, even the hardiest of criminals turned in for the night and tried to catch a few hours of shut-eye.

That was why the man stumbling towards him and leaving what appeared to be a thick trail of either water or – and Dick hated to be so pessimistic – blood caught him by such surprise.

The man’s hand pounded on the window of the Batmobile, and now there could be no doubt that the thick substance on his body was blood. Dick's heart skyrocketed at the sound, jolting upright in his seat. The blood smeared on the window, leaving a brownish-red trail as it slid down, the man not having enough energy to keep it fixed in one position. 

Dick shot out of the car in an instant, circling around to head to the other side.

When he got there, the man had slumped to the ground, sitting with his side resting against the door of the car. The man’s pallor was pale, despite his skin tone being similar to Dick’s. His eyes were closed. There was already a pool of red beneath him. Dick didn’t know how he was still standing after losing so much blood.

“Mister?” Dick crouched down beside him, shaking his shoulder a little in an attempt to rouse him. “Mister, can you hear me?”

The man stirred, his eyes opening. They were unfocused and dazed, but they saw Dick and fixated on him.

The man’s hand came to grip at Dick’s tunic, and Dick immediately covered it with his own, returning the hold tightly. Comfort was something he hadn’t had to be taught in the numerous first aid sessions with Bruce and Leslie.

“Where are you hurt?” he asked. He would have to ask for a name later – there was no time now.

The man blinked at him.

“Where are you hurt?” Dick repeated, this time pronouncing the words as clearly as he could. He’d been hurt before, though nothing to this extent – he knew that sometimes words just took time to be processed.

In the meantime, he began uncurling the man, trying to get a good look at his torso. He worked as carefully but efficiently as he could, undoing layers upon layers of clothing. The way the coats were soaked in blood… Dick frowned. There was something _off_ about this. 

The thought had only just entered his mind when two hands grabbed at him from behind. Someone shoved a cloth over his face. Dick could smell the chlorine, but try as he might to avoid breathing it in, the air had been shoved out of his lungs when he’d been grabbed.

* * *

Dick came to in the Batmobile.

His head _hurt_ , throbbing with every beat of his heart. When he tried to move his hands, he found them tied behind him, and his whole body wrapped up with thick rope. It was lucky his mouth wasn’t gagged and he still have full use of his eyes – he carefully started the process to unravel the knots holding him tied, trying to get a good look at the people who’d just kidnapped him.

Bruce was going to kill him. Not only had he run off with the Batmobile and patrolled alone, but he’d gotten kidnapped _,_ and in his own car, no less.

There were two people in the Batmobile. The guy who Dick had been trying to help was in the driver’s seat. The light from the various displays shone on his face, the blood smearing it combined with the unkept beard giving him a grisly look.

It was then that Dick realised just how much of his own body was covered in what he now presumed was fake blood. His hands were absolutely _coated_ , and his knees and various parts of his legs were also covered with red. He didn’t want to know how his face must look now.

A to-do list formed in Dick’s mind:

  1. Defeat the bad guys who’d just hijacked the Batmobile and turn them in to the police.
  2. Get back to the Cave as soon as he could.
  3. Wash himself off before anyone got a good look at him, because surely he looked a fright.
  4. Wash the _Batmobile_ , because there was now fake blood covering the windows, and he had no doubt that it had also pooled in the driver’s seat.
  5. Grovel to Bruce and apologise to Alfred.



But that was when he realised that the person in the passenger’s seat was slumped to the side, and there was laboured breathing coming from it. Dick frowned, and looked to their scenery. So far, they’d stayed inside Gotham City, and he’d figured they were heading to the docks.

But now that he paid closer attention, it was clear they were going in the direction of Leslie’s clinic.

Dick sat up, no longer seeing the need to keep quiet.

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the still figure.

The man in the driver’s seat jumped, and the Batmobile jerked off the road dangerously before righting itself again. “Shut up and sit there, kid—” he started to threaten, but Dick cut in.

“I can help!” he said. “Your friend’s hurt, right?”

“Look,” the man told him, voice low and harsh. “I’m sorry for knockin' you out and kidnapping you and nabbing the car, but once we get to where we need to get, we go our separate ways. Don’t get your nose involved in shit it doesn’t need to be involved in.”

“Look,” Dick said stubbornly, shaking the ropes off of himself and ignoring the pounding in his head, “you’re stuck with me, so you might as well tell me what’s going on and put me to work.”

The man snorted. He was swerving left and right, skipping past cars as fast as he could. Dick inwardly cringed as they ran a red light and came close to crashing into a truck.

“Arrest me when we get there, but let me get him inside first.”

Dick blew out a breath, watching as his fringe flew up and then floated back down over his mask. “You haven’t done anything illegal,” he explained. “And kidnapping me and the car doesn’t count.”

The man finally turned to look at Dick, and for the first time, Dick realised that he _was_ injured.

“Wait,” Dick said slowly. “Is that all your own blood?”

The man gave him a look, and Dick swallowed. Somehow, it’d been easier to accept that what he, the car, and the man in the driver’s seat were covered in was ketchup or something similar. Dick grabbed the medkit from where it sat beneath the backseat and climbed over. He stumbled a few times as the car swerved and turned at breakneck speed.

“You might get pulled over,” Dick commented as he assessed the unconscious figure in the passenger seat. “Hey, what’s your name?”

The man’s head swerved to him. “This is the fucking Batman’s car. No way we’re getting pulled over.”

Dick shrugged. “Sometimes we do,” he said simply. “But it’s okay. We’re heading to the free clinic, right?”

He shook the figure’s shoulder a little, looking to see if there was any reaction; then, Dick pressed his finger to his pulse point, his own heart jumping a little as he realised just how sluggish it was.

“Please,” he pleaded. “Let me help you save your friend.”

The man finally glanced at him, though Dick wished he’d keep his eyes on the road, particularly with the speed they were going at. “He got stabbed a few times. Torso. Knife went deep.”

Dick nodded, instantly setting to work. This, he could do. He’d treated stab wounds about as much as he’d treated gunshot wounds, but this had far easier steps, what with there being no bullet to consider.

His patient’s torso was wrapped up in what appeared to be a torn-up t-shirt. It was completely soaked through with blood, and the bindings weren’t _bindings_ so much as _draped cloth_. Dick removed it, knowing it wasn’t doing his patient any favours, and instantly covered the man’s torso back up with bandages. They also soaked through, but not as fast as they would’ve when the wounds had been fresh.

Dick chewed on his lip, knowing that that wasn’t a good sign. “Can you hurry it up a little, mister?” he asked, despite knowing that the man driving was also injured and not thinking entirely straight.

His kidnapper didn’t respond, but Dick felt the Batmobile surge forward and he had to brace himself to avoid being thrown face-first into his patient.

Dick kept a finger on the man’s pulse, glancing at him worriedly from time to time. Really, there was nothing much he could do now except to try and staunch the bleeding – which he’d tried, to the best of his abilities and that of the Batmobile’s medkit. He was in no way qualified to try anything more advanced, and there was no opportunity to, in a moving vehicle.

A glance to the window told Dick that they’d arrived.

“Park on the street,” Dick told him. “It’ll be fine.”

The man didn’t hesitate to comply, and Dick didn’t stop to wonder at the strangeness of having an adult – and a crook, no less – listen to a pre-teen boy so completely. Dick opened the door, unstrapping the patient. He didn’t try to get him out, knowing he’d only get in the way.

Instead, Dick jumped out of the way and ran to the door of the clinic. They were open twenty-four hours, but times like this, Leslie and a receptionist would often be the only ones there. Bruce had once told Dick about the state of the place before WE had begun funding it, and Dick shuddered to think about coming all this way only to find the clinic closed.

The receptionist – it must've been someone new, because Dick didn’t recognise him – leapt to his feet at the sight of Robin. He was probably used to people barging in, Dick thought, holding open the door.

“Is Dr Thompkins here?” he asked. “We have a man with about five stab wounds. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

The receptionist nodded. He’d frozen in place for a split second, but now he ran into the back just as Dick’s companions crashed into the waiting area of the clinic. The patient was dragging his feet; Dick didn’t even know whether he was conscious. The two of them were leaving a trail of red in their wake. It had gotten onto the soles of their shoes, and as Dick glanced down, he noted distantly that his boots were also bloody.

“Here, put him here!” Leslie and the receptionist had wheeled in a stretcher, and within seconds, they’d placed the patient onto it.

Dick watched as spots of red bloomed on the stark whiteness of the sheets. He didn’t know what to do now that the man had been taken inside. Dick’s kidnapper had slumped into one of the plastic chairs, face utterly drained.

“Hey, mister?” Dick said tentatively, stepping closer. “You should get yourself checked out too.”

The man glanced at Dick and huffed a humourless laugh. “Don’t worry about me, kid,” he said gruffly. “Go home. Must be past your bedtime.”

Dick glanced at the first rays of sunrise outside, knowing that his absence had _definitely_ been noted by now. He was just about to reassure the man about his friend and head back to the Cave when what looked to be a black arrow dropped down right before the Batmobile.

Dick’s heart leapt into his throat. Batman had found him.

He didn’t want Leslie or anyone in here to hear whatever Bruce had to say to him. He silently exited the clinic, wincing as his fingers closed around the bloody door handle.

“ _Robin?”_

Batman was beside him in an instant, hands hovering over Dick’s shoulders. Dick glanced up in surprise to find Bruce’s face bone white, having expected a brittle welcome.

“Hey, B,” he said weakly, resisting the urge to shift his weight in place. His anger and frustration had faded in the face of the rush to the clinic and the pure exhaustion from the excitement of the night and being awake so much later than usual.

“Where—” Bruce cut himself off, hands lightly running down Dick’s arms. He paused when he got to Dick’s torso. “Robin, is this your blood?”

Dick blinked. “Oh,” he said, failing to stifle a yawn as realisation hit him. “No, it’s not mine.”

Bruce visibly wilted, hands finally coming to rest on Dick’s shoulders with the grip they normally had. His fingers spasmed a little, as though he was holding himself back from something.

“I’m sorry for stealing the Batmobile and patrolling on my own,” Dick said, looking up to Batman’s cowl. “Can we go home now?”

Bruce opened his mouth, and then closed it. He simply nodded, turning around towards the car. Despite everything, Dick felt a laugh bubbling inside him at the look of distaste on Bruce’s face as he took in the state of the Batmobile.

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry,” Dick reassured him as he slid into the passenger’s seat.

Bruce shot him a look. “That’s the last thing I’m worried about,” he told him.

Dick didn’t know what to say to that. Bruce didn’t _seem_ mad, just relieved – and Dick understood, he really did, because it was easier to point out the bits of him that _didn’t_ have blood smeared on it in some way, and he knew that if Bruce appeared in front of him like that, he’d likely have nightmares for a week straight. But now that he’d been reassured he was fine, why wasn’t Bruce talking about groundings and punishments?

“How’d you find me?” Dick asked before he could fall asleep with his head resting in the same place where an unconscious body had been only moments ago.

Bruce shot him a bemused look. “The Batcomputer tracks the car,” he reminded Dick. “When I realised you and the Batmobile were both gone, I turned on the GPS. I came into Gotham about half an hour after you did and figured… if you didn’t want a break from patrol tonight, Batman might as well be out too.”

So _that_ was why there’d been so little crime on the streets. Dick had braced himself to be facing the sorts of crimes Batman normally sent him away for, but there'd only been the petty thieveries and muggings. Dick shuffled in his seat slightly, wishing he’d put a towel or something down, because the blood had dried and gone crusty now.

“I really am sorry for sneaking out,” he murmured. “But if I hadn’t been here, that man might’ve died.”

“We’ll discuss it later,” Bruce responded. “I’m not… _that_ mad at you. Just—”

“Disappointed?” Dick would’ve preferred anger.

Bruce shook his head. “Relieved you weren’t the one being admitted to the clinic,” he said.

“Oh.”

They lapsed into silence once again, and Dick could feel his eyelids drooping despite his best efforts. He rooted around his mind trying to find something to talk about, because he didn’t want to fall asleep with all of this gunk on himself, knowing he’d feel too groggy to shower properly once they got home.

“What was the surprise?” Dick asked.

“Hmm?”

“The surprise. You said you had something planned for us tonight.”

“Oh.” Bruce was quiet for the longest time. Just when Dick thought he wasn’t going to answer, Bruce said, “I’ll surprise you with it another day,” and left it at that.

Dick eyed him, wondering at the tone of Bruce’s voice as he said it. But when he finally responded, all he said was, “Okay.” Maybe he could see if Bruce was willing to take the following night off, seeing how tonight technically didn’t count. Maybe he could get Leslie to call Bruce and tell him how maturely he'd handled himself, and convince Bruce to send him on that camp.

The entrance to the Cave was only another minute away, so Dick allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes for a moment.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first ever bingo card and it went so much better than I'd hoped. Thank you to everyone who's reading this fic and everyone who's read other fics I wrote for the bingo <3<3<3 
> 
> Happy holidays!!!


End file.
